Dessert
by Broken Oken
Summary: Why had he complained again? He didn't want a piece of chocolate cake; he wanted a piece of Miley. MOLIVER SMUT, ohhh yes.


**Heheeeee… helloooo.**

**I'm way nervous to post this because it's, uh, a little more descriptive than I intended it to be. And there really isn't a plot to it. SO I'M AWARE THERE'S NO POINT. It's just fun smut because Moliver needs more of that here, and I like writing it. xD Don't think differently of me after you read this. I'm still innocent little Kaylee. :)**

**And yeah, it's M for a reason. If you cannot handle reading about sex and all that stuff, then I suggest closing out of this. Thanks for the view, though. ;D lmao.**

**ENJOY, you dirty little Moliver fans. :D**

**Disclaimer: Like the owners of Hannah Montana would write out sex fics about Oliver and Miley…. Okay, well, they might. I'd like to read them. Hahahaha.

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**Dessert**  
by Broken Oken

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Sometimes when you're in a relationship you've been dying to be in since the day you met the girl, you just can't wait for when an opportunity presents itself.

…which explained the brutal way Oliver threw open his apartment door , slamming it against the wall. It explained how hard he was grasping the groaning girl in his arms, as his hands journeyed up and down her toned frame, from her long, curly brown hair to hitching themselves roughly underneath her thighs. It explained the heat radiating from their bodies, both beginning to bead with sweat as their need to be somehow even _closer_ to one other grew, despite the nonexistent distance between them.

Just like the door slammed open, it slammed closed, and Oliver was pressing her hard up against it. Their lips and tongues were in a wild, interlocked dance, chasing each other in beautiful, intoxicating choreography. He felt her nails squeeze into his shoulders, and while he should be happy the shirt he was wearing blocked her from scratches, he wanted that shirt to be gone, to be tossed across the room—in the garbage, or in shreds; hell, he didn't care anymore where it went, it just needed to be _off._

The girl abruptly broke their lip contact and craned her head backwards, giving Oliver a clear shot at her neck and collarbone. He smirked as her breathing got sharper, and her sighs joined with quivers and goose bumps along her arms as he stroked them. Her short purple dress left little unexposed, but he wanted to kiss her further down, to the areas he hadn't explored or seen in the month they'd finally began dating. Her neck was like a blank slate, and he needed to fill it with kisses, licks, and the occasional bite, and he would erase none of it. Only she would know when the space would be full, and at that point, he knew her mouth would come diving back down towards his like a hawk in a starved movement. And he would definitely comply.

It didn't take long until she was sick of running her hands through his hair and over his back. It wasn't that she was actually sick of it, she loved it, but she wanted to get to other areas, and as enjoyable as the position they were in against the door, she knew she had no way of getting to those other areas. So she gently began to push back on him, and dipped her nose downwards so they could restart their lips-to-lips composition. He wasn't completely getting the idea—instead he got aggressive and shoved her harder into the wall, their hips grinding into one another. She let out a loud gasp, and he smiled dangerously, pleased that the action had caused her to spread her legs further apart to allow the fabric of his jeans to meet at her underwear.

"_Miley_," he whispered into her ear, and then bit it, causing her to gasp yet again and push her bottom half into him. Warmth trickled its way between her legs, and a new, entirely pleasurable sensation took over her body.

Oliver could not love the sounds she was making any more than at that moment, and he knew he needed to hear them again. Just the fact that it was _him_ making her produce the noises… his pants were feeling a lot more tighter than when they'd first arrived back from dinner.

He put his lips to her other ear, chanting, "_Miley, Miley_," into that one as well, and he received the same pleasurable action of her hips. However, this time, he was finding it hard not to groan, too, because of how she was aiming herself so perfectly onto him through their clothing.

Oliver knew he couldn't take too much more of this, and he was scared she was just going to stop him. Just last week they'd been doing the same exact thing, and she'd finally pushed him back saying things were moving too fast, and therefore, he'd had to take a pretty cold shower right after she'd left.

…But she seemed a little more adventurous tonight. That dress had been short, like, way shorter than the others she'd worn on previous dates. It _had_ to have been done on purpose. It was pretty revealing up on the top, too, something Oliver had been trying very hard not to look at the entire evening when she would talk to him. But c'mon, she _had_ to have known she was torturing him every time she batted an eyelash, or licked her lips, swung her hips as she walked, the way the dress would hike up a little more than necessary….

He just didn't think it would be fair if they stopped now. But he'd do anything and everything for the girl. He'd wait for as long as she wanted, but right now, it was… it was awfully hard. Both figuratively _and_ especially literally.

He knew he had to make a move, and moving the spaghetti straps of her dress off her shoulders would be a good one to do, but he was nervous that the pleasure they were currently giving each other would just end if he made any kind of stupid mistake.

Miley was lost in her own world as she bucked into him as she kissed. There was nothing else she wanted but him. She couldn't _think_ of anything else. But for some reason, he wasn't doing anything about it. He was kissing her forcefully, almost sloppily in that way where you didn't even notice because you were so out of breath and turned on, but that was all he was doing. He hadn't pushed a finger into her underwear like she was dying for him to do, or even grazed against her bra, or even better, into her bra… he was being so cautious for being so aggressive only a second ago.

They continued kissing for a minute or two before Miley could no longer stand it. She pushed him off of her, glaring at him with a fire in her eyes.

Oliver was terrified at the look on her face, and was pretty sure he had no idea what he'd done wrong. He had been considering moving a hand under her dress when she'd sprang backwards, startling him half out of his mind.

"What?" he asked, amazed at how he was able to say anything with how heavy he was breathing.

She didn't say anything, just stomped towards him in her heels and took a handful of his shirt, pulling him close to her face. He gulped as she continued her glare up at him. It was intimidating being in this position, and yet somehow… he liked it.

He had no idea what that had been all about, because she didn't bother explaining, or saying anything actually. She just pressed her lips back into his, and he closed his eyes, not understanding how every time she did this, it still threw his mind into a frenzy. It took a moment for him to realize she was driving herself into him, causing him to stumble backwards as they walked until they landed in an uncomfortable position on the couch.

He felt his leg hit the bottom of the couch awkwardly and cringed as it hurt, but quickly forgot the pain as his girlfriend started straddling him. _Well_—this was definitely a new move.

He looked at her quizzically before she launched her mouth onto his neck, sucking and kissing in all the right areas. He tried to move her head so he could kiss her, but she held her own, refusing to stop what she was doing. Oliver watched as one of her dress straps fell off her shoulder on its own, and considered moving it back to its correct place to be a gentleman when Miley totally changed his mind when she moved the other strap down herself.

He stared into her eyes as she did this with a smirk. He smiled as best as he could remember how, now knowing that this really _was_ going to be a different kind of evening, and the throbbing in his pants might actually be relieved in a way different than cold water.

After kissing again for a moment, Miley removed her mouth off of his and sat up on him straighter, moving some hair out of her face. Oliver could see sweat droplets at her hairline, and a little on her collarbone.

She startled him when she said, "It's freaking hot, take your shirt off." And even though she had commanded him to do it, she began grasping at the ends of it herself. Oliver had probably never removed a shirt so quickly in his life.

She was still in her dress, which was frustrating to Oliver, and unknowingly to him, to Miley as well, but he decided to have fun with it. He ran his hand down her back, squeezing at the cheeks of her butt gently, and then roughly whenever she kissed him harder. He was pleased to hear her growl, beginning to understand she was just as frustrated. He smiled into their kisses, and snuck a hand up the front of her dress.

At first he'd thought he'd done something wrong because she froze, and their kissing paused. He opened his eyes to see she was looking at him, hard and concentrated in the face. He almost spoke before she sprung her mouth back at him, this time more fiercely and assertive, a sure sign of approval to what his hand was about to do.

With her kissing as roughly as she was, Oliver was finding it hard to really control the hand now teasing at her bellybutton. He was shaking, knowing he was about to cross that damn line that had forever mocked him since he'd accidentally walked in on Miley in the shower that once. He'd wanted so desperately to touch her then, but that was before he'd kissed her that night on the beach, before he'd told her he was in love with her, and before she'd smiled and said she loved him back.

But now… he could touch her, and you're damn right that he was going to do it.

He stroked her gently at first in the area below her breasts. She was making muffled noises into his mouth, and he knew he was teasing her. She was thinking _she_ was the one that couldn't wait to be touched. In all honesty, Oliver was teasing himself by tracing the outline of her boobs, barely grazing them at all, when he just wanted to—to _grab_ at them or something.

He couldn't take it any more and finally, he cupped a hand over her left one, and a delightful pleasure swam over Miley's body, producing trembles, and Oliver almost died of happiness, if that was the right word choice. He rubbed at the first nipple tenderly and carefully, going over it in a circular motion, and Miley stopped kissing him, and her fingers gripped like tiger claws into his back. She moaned, a little louder than he'd ever heard, but he still found it too quiet. In a quick movement, his other hand left Miley's side and swished up under Miley's dress as well, to find its own place on her opposite breast.

His hands, mirroring each other's movements over her, were like magic to Miley, and she showed him her approval through the only way she could at the moment—she moaned. And moaned. And _moaned_.

Oliver was speechless at these new noises, and quite simply, had never felt this horny in his entire life. She was practically grinding her teeth. And he wasn't even done with her yet.

While at the beginning of the evening, Oliver had commented that Miley's dress was one of the sexiest things he'd ever seen, he now no longer wanted to see it at all. It separated him from other things that he felt the need, and possibly the _right_ to see after all of this. So, he didn't even ask for permission. He just tugged at it, and she lifted her arms obligingly, and the dress sailed over her head and behind the couch. She kissed him hard on the mouth, taking a dive with her tongue, and his hands left her breasts, settling for her untamed curls.

She stopped kissing him momentarily, and had a look in her eyes Oliver had never seen before. After a second or two, she opened her mouth.

"Why the _hell_ are you still wearing pants?"

She was terrifying….ly sexy in Oliver's eyes. That anger mixed with her usual bossy self, God, it was _irresistible_. He ripped his belt off in a matter of seconds, and she stepped off of him to allow him to drop his pants as well. She smiled as he followed her request, and then shocking him even more, removed her own bra, tossing it carelessly to the side.

_Whoa_, Oliver thought, trying desperately not to stare, but he'd already lost that chance with that shower thing, and now, Miley was his girlfriend, so he could damn well stare as long as he liked.

She smiled as he licked his lips. Secretively, she'd been nervous he would find her body disgusting, but that hunger in his eyes… oh, he wanted her. There was no doubt about it.

They'd never been like this before. Miley was only in her underwear. And Oliver merely in his boxers… which were a little bit snug at the moment, something Miley would have to be _blind_ not to see.

She smirked at them, and stunned Oliver completely when she ran a hand over them, too, landing directly on top of the bulge he seemed so nervous to show.

"_Someone_ wants me," she whispered seductively, and Oliver had no idea how to even say anything when she was grasping him like that, and especially with her practically naked atop him.

Miley understood his paralysis, and rubbed at him, smiling more, enjoying the redness beginning to overcome Oliver's face, and the way his breathing was barely existent. All thanks to her.

As she continued to stroke at him through his boxers, she leaned upwards, placing her lips carefully alongside his neck. He let out a strangled sigh, and before Miley had time to give another kiss to his shoulder, he had picked her up and flipped her around on the couch, him now being the one on top.

She giggled, and he narrowed his eyes, not liking that she found his discomfort _amusing_. He had to shut her up somehow. So as she continued smiling and sputtering out more giggles, he sneakily positioned himself better on top of her, so that his boxers met at juuuust the perfect angle onto her underwear.

She stopped mid-giggle when he let his package slide across her blocked entrance. He was successful—that giggle turned into an astonished squeak.

"Ol-_Oliver_?"

It was refreshing to hear her voice tremble like that because Oliver knew that meant she knew she was no longer in control. He needed to be dominant for once, to show her that he could protect her, and how much she truly meant to him.

He didn't say anything back to her, just slowly let their soaked fabrics meet again. It killed him, and he closed his eyes, savoring the feeling in case she would change her mind at any minute and throw him off of her. He may never get the chance to be this close to her again.

Miley dug her hands into the sofa underneath them, straining to resist the feelings she was having. She knew she had initiated what was probably going to happen, but she had to make sure he was the one. That she wouldn't give it to just anyone.

His member stopped teasing her, and she opened an eye to see Oliver looking down at her in concern.

"Babe, hey, are—are you okay?"

She blinked a few times before replying. "Y-Yeah… just… yeah, I'm fine."

"We don't have to do this," he told her, even if a large part of him died as he said it. He couldn't help being a guy, and that being so close had been a dream come true (literally, he'd had quite a few of _those_ dreams about her). He felt disgusted to be a little disappointed. He'd do anything for Miley. Even put back on all of his clothes and act like none of this had ever happened.

"I know," she said quietly, putting a hand to his cheek and stroked at it. "I'm just… nervous."

He smiled despite the frown he kind of wanted to make. "It's alright. How about we do this some other time? When you're ready?"

She didn't reply, only gazed at him for awhile and gently caressed his cheek. They stayed like that for a few minutes, looking at each other, not saying a word before he initiated a careful kiss to her forehead. She smiled, and brought his head back down to allow him to kiss her lips as well. It was a soft kiss, beautiful, really, but when he pulled away, Miley knew that she wanted more.

And seeing his abs, the, ahem, _bump_ in his pants, his bird-nest of a hairdo (thanks to her fingers, of course), she knew she didn't just want more… she wanted him.

"Wait… I want you," she claimed as soon as the thought came into her head.

Oliver's eyes grew momentarily before resuming their normal size. "Miles… don't feel like you have to do anything."

"No. I'm not saying it cause I feel bad," she said, with a bit of venom. "I seriously want you. Right now. I love you, you're my boyfriend, and I want you."

He raised an eyebrow, and his heartbeat quickened as he thought about the reality of the situation. "Are… you sure?"

She glared at him and sprung her lips forward to clash into his for a powerful, passionate kiss, a way she knew would get his blood pumping, and certainly tell him that this wasn't a one-kiss-and-go situation.

He obliged carefully at first, still unsure if she was really being serious about everything, when suddenly, he felt her hand on one of his wrists, and dragged it forward to lie on one of her breasts. Oliver somehow managed to suck in a sharp breath and yet lose air at the same time as she did this, and she obviously heard the awkward noise he made because she was now only looking at him, the making out part was nonexistent.

"_Touch me_," she demanded, and he could only hope he nodded or did something other than get harder down below.

He fondled her gently until she was grunting a little bit on top of him as she rubbed against him, and then he felt the need to be playing with her with a more fierce kind of approach. He definitely wanted her, too, whether she believed him now or not, and he was pretty sure he couldn't form a sentence with her being so… well, naked and all. So his actions were going to have be his communication. And while words came out in stutters and squeaks, and were completely impossible to put together to form a clear thought, his actions were going to be bold, and oh, how he knew _exactly_ how to put _those_ together.

She was moaning a little now, as she had been earlier, and he realized she was becoming goo in his hands, a feeling he'd never felt with her before. He'd always felt like her own cup of Play-Doh, never the opposite, because she could do anything she wanted, and he'd follow because she had a control over him he couldn't explain. It wasn't like being whipped; it was like never wanting to make her unhappy, and it just came out that the things that made her happy were never things he hated doing. If sushi, purple stuffed animals won at the fair, and holding hands at the mall and at the movies were what made her happy—he had no problem doing them for the rest of his life.

But now, he was in control. As intimidating as it felt, he also felt a sense of… exhilaration.

This time Oliver did not waste time debating his next movement. Instead, he dove his fingers over her underwear, and felt his whole body warm and tingle when he felt how wet she was. He stroked her, and her thighs quivered, but he realized she was starting to spread them farther apart, as if begging for him to enter.

Again, there was no weighing out the decision. He just slipped a nervous finger inside her underwear, prodding at her in a circular movement, which seemed to be driving her crazy because she was now _biting_ at his neck as if she were some sort of sexy vampire. In a low whisper, he heard her say, "_Fuck_," and he was surprised at her language. He'd never heard her actually use the word outside of saying things like "the fucking (insert noun here)". But she was saying it now because… because she liked what he was doing. No, no, she _loved_ it, Oliver was positive.

He brought his mouth to her ear, brushing back her wild curls so that he could whisper back, "_Miley_…"

She gasped loudly because at the same time he'd said it, he'd finally inserted a finger inside of her. Her legs spread a little farther, and he cautiously pushed further, until she was squirming out of control. Her head craned backwards, and as he played with her, he gave her neck a few nibbles and sucks until she wasn't just whispering inaudible curse words, but nearly shouting them.

When he started using two fingers, her bright eyes began staring at him with such dark desire that they looked like a hurricane was brewing in them. He wiggled his fingers back and forth, and she bit her own lips as she tensed with pleasure. One of her hands found his bare right shoulder, gripping it more and more tightly with each passing second.

"_Fuck me_," she abruptly commanded in that raspy accent he couldn't resist, and he stopped moving his hand to stare at her directly in the eyes. She was still biting her lip, and her body was breathing heavily, and sweat was beading down her face, and those eyes… they were a crazy hue of blue, intoxicatingly cerulean, and he was drowning in those twin hurricanes, but he didn't want to be saved.

Because quite honestly, she'd never looked so hot, so sexy, and fuck-able in his eyes before. Of course, he'd had those thoughts about her before, but now, this was undeniable. She had ordered him to "fuck" her, as if she needed to beg.

He took his hand out of her, and quickly flipped her to a position below him. She was breathing heavily, clawing at his back, obviously impatient. He kissed her before she could whine, and then she startled him by pushing his mouth off her.

"Oliver…" she whispered. "Kill the lights."

He would've argued, but he'd do anything for her at this moment. He'd kill all the lights in the world. Hell, he'd kill the sun if she asked.

He got up and practically ran to the living room's light switch, flipping it downwards in a quick flick. As dim as the area became, he could still see his girlfriend just lying there naked and out of breath on his couch, and he couldn't believe how lucky he truly was. He'd officially and finally be as close to her as he'd always wanted.

Although he wanted to just, like, pounce on her, he realized he wasn't going to be irresponsible about this. As much as he wanted not a single thing to separate them, he knew that having a kid at nineteen wasn't something he was entirely ready for.

Without saying a word, he disappeared to his bathroom, stumbling into the door because of how fast he was walking. He nearly stubbed his toe, but that didn't stop him from finding the foil he needed stashed in the cabinet behind the mirror. He actually grabbed three because they were still connected, and just didn't care about the other two.

He could barely remember how he ended up getting one on so fast, but the next thing he knew, he was back on top of Miley, who breathed an irritated, yet incredibly _sexy_, "FINALLY," when he got there.

He smirked and lowered his mouth to the area around her ear, kissing it gently. "Anxious, are we?"

"I just want you, so fucking much," she cursed again.

"Watch your language," he teased, and she moved forward to kiss him, pushing her tongue to meet his in a fiery, spontaneous kiss, and then abruptly stopped, ending with a bite on his bottom lip.

"I'll do whatever the _fuck_ I want."

Oliver quivered. Why was Miley saying that word such a turn on?

This brought him to an experiment. He playfully kissed along her collarbone, and said lowly, "You're so fucking sexy right now, babe."

Almost instantly she moaned.

"I want to fuck you," he continued, and she gripped at his back once again with her nails.

"Please," she begged, shaking.

He loved this power he had over her. And as much as he wished he could've just enjoyed it a little longer, he himself could not hold himself back for another minute. There was still a torturing space between them, and he was very aware of how badly it needed to be filled.

"Ready?" he breathed, and she simply glared at his gentleman like attitude, but he smirked, knowing it was her way of agreeing.

It was a slow, steady push at first, and he disliked the way Miley cringed in pain as he went deeper. He stopped nearly three seconds in, asking her if she was okay, and she told him to "just keep going, it'll feel good in a few seconds."

And either Miley was a psychic, or he was just naturally damn good at sex.

Oliver couldn't describe the feeling of being inside her for the first time. He gasped so loudly that he was sure the people in the other apartment rooms could hear him. But the pleasure he was feeling needed to be voiced. There needed to be audio to how amazing this was feeling.

And judging by the way Miley was soon groaning out his name, extending each syllable to at least a second or two long… she felt exactly the same.

Somehow Oliver suddenly remembered how Miley wouldn't let him get dessert at the restaurant earlier. He had been so disappointed, and complained a little too much, obviously unaware of the _much_ better dessert that was waiting back at his apartment. Had she been planning this all along?

Their pace picked up nearly ten seconds after they started. He knew the pain part was over with as soon as Miley started pushing herself towards him instead of away. Their hips collided and crashed in nearly perfect rhythm. Every once in awhile Oliver would thrust way deeper, and Miley would make this half-squeal, half-moan noise that he found himself craving.

"Oh, God, Oliver, fuck me harder," she breathed out. And somehow Oliver only just then realized how loudly the couch was squeaking. But he didn't even care. His neighbors had seen Miley, commented on how gorgeous she was, and he wanted them to know that she was rightfully his, so hell yeah, he was going to make this very vocal, whether they would complain later or not.

He complied without any disagreement, of course. He'd been wanting to "fuck her harder" since they began, but he knew that she wasn't ready for it. But here she was, surprising him by the shouted request.

Miley loved Oliver. She knew she loved him from the minute she saw him, but right now, it seemed like she loved him more. She loved the feeling of him being inside of her, plunging in and out, in and out… _God, it was crazy_.

In minutes, both Miley and Oliver could feel their pleasure building. They couldn't remember why they'd never tried this before. Why had they wasted two months _not_ screwing each other's brains out again? Something about morals… ha.

The pleasure was beginning to peak for Oliver first, and he struggled to hold on to wait for Miley. This was difficult, it was his first time as well, so he wasn't trained very well to hold his climax. But with the way Miley was starting to chant, "Yes," over and over again, told him that she was close, too, and he could wait just a little bit longer.

And it was so worth it to see the screwed up, sexy look on her face as she released, and moaned his name ten times louder than she had all night. Next to her singing voice, it might have been the most beautiful thing she'd ever said.

There was something very, very powerful about Oliver having an orgasm the second she'd belted it out, too. He lost himself momentarily, never knowing he could feel that amazing before.

He stayed inside her for about fifteen seconds after they were lying there; both sweating to death and trying to catch their lost breaths, and get their hearts back to a steady beat.

He pulled out carefully, and Miley was the first to speak.

"Wow," she said quietly, but well annunciated at the same time.

"Ditto that," Oliver replied, beginning to discard the condom with a very obvious, shit-eating grin on his face.

Miley watched him amusedly as he went to dispose of it in a trashcan. "Make your day, did I?"

"_Life_," he corrected from the kitchen, before crawling back onto the couch with her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, bringing her back against him, and he kissed her forehead gently. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she replied quietly, smiling happily, but still a little breathy.

"You better. Or you're never getting that again."

She rolled her eyes. "You can't bribe me with sex."

"I'm kidding… but… you can bribe _me_ with sex. You know… if you want…."

She raised an eyebrow at him, and he was still smiling that goofy smile he'd had since they finished, so she burst out laughing. Playfully he nuzzled his face against her, and she giggled until she was full out roaring of laughter. This was the way it was supposed to be. Sexy and hot, and then cute and cuddly.

They laid there for awhile, and after awhile, Oliver caught Miley eyeing the table next to them. He followed her gaze and saw the other two condoms, blushing a little in embarrassment.

"So… how long am I staying night?" she asked innocently.

"Um, however long you want," he answered carefully. "I mean, you usually leave at one, and it's, like, twelve thirty right now."

"I think I'll stay the night."

He didn't even try to fight the excited grin on his face. "Really?"

She smiled back at him. "As long as at least one of those others is gone by the end of the night, if you know what I mean."

Oliver's eyes bugged. "Uh, um, yea—wait, are you just joking?"

She smirked, leaning in to kiss him tenderly on the lips. It was more than just a peck, and she was sure she gave him that impression as well because when she leaned backwards, he looked a bit disappointed. _Perfect._

"Of course I'm not. I'll race you to the bed room."

And with that short statement, she ran from the couch and down the hall. It took Oliver a couple seconds to process what had just happened before he was grabbing the other _two_ condoms and chasing after her.

As Miley flew onto the bed, with Oliver close behind, she couldn't help but smile in that dangerously pleased kind of way.

_Sexy and hot, then cute and cuddly._

… and then sexy and hot all over again.

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**Oh… dear. I don't know what to say here. xD**

**Hopefully you do. And put in a review while you're at it? Haaaaa.**

***runs off to go work in her multi-chap like she's supposed to***


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